


Too Late

by Missjohnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 06:01:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missjohnlock/pseuds/Missjohnlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Johnlock one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> Hi,  
> this is my first work here, so I'm just trying something out. The story came to me when I was listening to daudalogn from Sigur Rós, you definetly have to listen that, Sigur Rós is really great.  
> I warn you, it's a sad story, I wrote it in a very dark time, when I felt sad myself.  
> But I hope you'll enjoy, if you've got any things you think I could improve, just let me know. :)

Almost, Sherlock thought when he ran after the killer. They were chasing him for a while now and they were in an abandoned part of the city. John was a little behind, but Sherlock couldn't take the risk of losing the killer.

When he turned the corner of a little alley, he fell hard over some bins the killer had thrown over. Sherlock felt dazed because of the blow on his head and blinked to see clearly again. He saw a dark figure looming over him, but didn't realise what happened.

'Sherlock!' he heard John screaming as if from a distance. And then the first figure went down by a second one, and he heard the sounds of a struggle. He tried to get up, but everything was blurry.

Suddenly, a deafening scream tore the night apart, and footsteps hurried away. Sherlock was suddenly completely clear again. A sickening feeling started to spread in his stomach. No... It couldn't be...

He got up quickly and felt even more sick when he saw John lying on the ground. His hands pressing his side and his face twisted in a pained expression.

'John!' Sherlock managed to say when he crouched beside him, gently but firm taking John's hands from his side. John gasped and let out a pained moan. Blood was flowing out of the wound. Sherlock swallowed hard. The wound was very deep, there was almost no chance of hea-... no, he didn't want and didn't allow himself to think about that.

'I-I saw he had a kni-knife and he was coming for y-you and I...' John said through clenched teeth. 

'Don't talk John,' Sherlock answered, he couldn't bear the look of his John, struggling to speak. He took off is scarf and began to wound it around John to bandage him while he called the hospital. He tried to remain calm but couldn't help that his voice shook when he explained shortly what had happened. 

When he had hung up, he examined the wound closer, desperately looking for something to heal it.  
'Sh-Sherlock, I know what's going to happen, I am a doctor, this wound won't-' John said.

'No, John, it's going to be fine. It's going to be all fine.' Sherlock didn't know who he tried to convince, but it wasn't as reassuring as he hoped.

It was silent for a brief moment and Sherlock kept examening the wound, but couldn't find any solution in his panicked mind. He tried to stop the bleeding, he tried everything he could, but it wasn't enough, it wasn't nearly enough...

'Sherlock, it's not going to work,' John said weakly.

'It has to!' Sherlock snapped, and felt guilt blooming up directly. It was silent for a moment. Think, Sherlock! There has to be a way!

'Could you...' John started, but trailed off, it took all his will not to scream it out of pain, he took a deep, shuddering breath and tried again, 'Sherlock, would you please... just... hold me.' His voice broke a little on the last words. He clenched his teeth and pushed the tears back that started to form behind his eyelids.

Sherlock looked up at that, stared at John and then looked back to the wound. When he looked back to the face of his doctor and saw his eyes glistening, he moved a bit and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. Sherlock felt his throat tighten, a feeling he thought he wasn't capable of having anymore. 

John looked up at the taller man and raised his hand. His fingers trailed along Sherlock's pale cheeks, his beautiful cheekbones, his handsome features. With his thumb, John trailed his bottom lip and then stroked with the same finger over his cheekbones again, right under those wonderful eyes where he could lose himself in so easily, but which were now filling with tears and looked at him with the most sad and desperate expression he'd ever seen.

'God, I'm going to miss your eyes,' John whispered softly. 'And that nose... and those cheekbones...' he trailed off and had to swallow hard.

'Don't say such things, John. The ambulance is on his way,' Sherlock answered weakly while he laid his hand upon the one John had put on his cheek, but they both knew it was already too late.  
John kept stroking his cheek and stared into those eyes, he tried to remember every detail of Sherlock, burn his image in his mind. 

'Kiss me,' he whispered after a while, when he couldn't stand it anymore.

Sherlock bent over and their mouths touched in the saddest, most passionate and definitive kiss. Both men knew this kiss was the last one and clinged to each other to let it last as long as they could. Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut, he tasted the salt of their tears and pulled John even closer to him. Because maybe, just maybe, if he held his John strongly enough, he could keep him here with him. 

Finally they had to part to breath. Sherlock pushed his forhead against John's and John swallowed hard, shutting his eyes firmly and clenching his teeth again to control the pain. Then he opened his eyes again and stared in those skyblue ones.

'I love you, Sherlock,' he said softly, a silent tear rolling down his face.

'I love you too, John,' Sherlock whispered back, 'More then you could ever know, you learned me to love.' There were also tears rolling from his eyes. John smiled a little at those words, his body became very heavy, his eyelids shut even though he tried to open them again.

'I've always loved you,' he breathed out, the little smile still on his face.

Sherlock felt how John became limp in his arms.

'No. NO! John? John!,' he cried out. 'No, John, come back! I came back to you, too! Come back! Hold on, they're almost there! Come back, John!' His cries became sobs and he pulled John -hís John- firmly against him. 'You can't leave me. You can't. I'm not ready to be alone again,' he sobbed heartbreakingly. 'My John, my brave doctor, my John,' he repeated over and over and over again while he rocked back and forth a little. He held on to John like his life was depending on it, clinging on to him, he burried his face in John's neck, but couldn't feel the strong pulse against his cheek. This couldn't be real, his John... his John... his John...

He sat there for a long time, crying uncontrollably, until the ambulance came, much too late.  
And even then, he wouldn't let go of his John, his love.


End file.
